Scars of the Past (Arty)
Artemis Galandel Rell (Arty) is an eladrin druid who mostly prefers to stay in her winter form. Below is her earliest memory and the reasoning for her dolor coloring and demeanor.
It was the dead of night. Overhead, the sky was partially blocked by the canopy. But what was visible was clear of clouds, allowing the millions of stars to sparkle, and directly above was the goddess of them all: the moon.
Full and bright, she reigned over her domain. Her glow shone down between the trees, lighting patches of grass on the forest floor. All was silent save for the light breeze gently rustling the leaves. I was several feet up a tree, clinging to a thin branch, trying to sneak up on an owl. Moonlight glinted off its eyes as it lifted its head. Elsewhere, father and mother were making their rounds around the city. They, and the Moonrise Vanguard, were the first line of defense against the creatures that would cause harm to our home. And because of them, I never felt unsafe. As I watched the owl, I slowly, quietly, crawled a little closer. I was only a few feet from it when it started at the sound of a snapping twig. The sound wasn’t near, but in the silence of the night, the crack rang through the forest. The owl took to the skies, leaving me alone on the branch. That’s when the source of the twig snap let itself be known as a primal, savage howl broke through the peace. It was followed by a similar howl. And then another. And another. They came from all directions, innumerable voices combining into one single song of horror.
I heard my father’s panicked call: “Artemis!” He wasn’t far. But the howling creatures were closer.
“Dad!” I heard the fear in my own voice as I yelled for him. I listened as the drumming of large footsteps grew louder and closer. “DAD!” I shrieked.
I tried to back up on the branch, but I felt it snap. I screamed as the ground rushed towards me. My head bounced off the ground and my body slammed into the grass. I lay there, dazed, barely able to hold onto consciousness. A ringing in my ears muffled the sounds around me but I felt the ground rumble beneath me. A massive shaped blocked out the moon as it loomed over me. I remember hearing a low snarl and my father’s yells close by, getting closer. I suddenly felt an excruciating pain in my back and heard myself screaming. I passed out and the next thing I knew, I was waking up in my bed a few days later. The pain in my back was unbearable, but even more painful was the news that my mother died that night. I was to be a four-year-old girl without a mother.
I still don’t know exactly how she was killed. I know it was a Lycan raid and that she died trying to protect our home, though nobody will talk to me about it, not even my father. They say it was too terrible for me to hear as a child but I’m almost 18 now. It’s been almost 14 years since she died. I want to know how. Every day, I feel the scars on my back, a reminder. Every day, I hold her cloak to my chest while trying to hold back tears: tears made for a woman I barely got to know. Every day, I wonder how differently my life would have turned out if I still had her in it. And every day, I try and fail to find the words to ask my father. I just want to know the truth of my mother’s death.
